if . . . of course . . . I only mentioned it because one ought to think of everything . . . if he should feel attracted to me.
Beatrice—[In alarm.] You haven't noticed anything of the kind?
Alexandra—That must be thought of too.
Beatrice—Have you ever noticed anything of the kind in him?
Alexandra—[Coldly.] I never notice what I don't want to notice.
Beatrice—That means you have?
Alexandra—I can't say that, but . . . he is not at ease when he speaks to me. He is not at ease.
Beatrice—That signifies nothing, my child. Don't let it concern you. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens so often. Underlings of all sorts may be infatuated with a lady of high rank . . . officers, even physicians
Alexandra—But one mustn't—notice such things.
Beatrice—Heaven forbid! But then the underling never dares to speak of his infatuation. Generally he works out his own salvation. Often in a most noble manner.
Alexandra—But then
Beatrice—Don't trouble yourself about anyone else. Leave that to us. You need only keep your eyes on the future, looking neither to the left nor to the right, but always ahead of you.
